Will of Confidence
by Prompt Master
Summary: Kisuke knew that the main players' plans had derailed as soon as the Hōgyoku had vanished.
1. Chapter 1

**10-30-13 Update:** I realized about a day and a half after I posted this that there isn't any real explicit content in this chapter. As a result of getting a follow from someone who is obviously a girl, I need to put it out there that this is a fucking depraved story of sex and... sex. Sure there will be some unimaginative plot of someone who hasn't read the manga in four years, but it's just a heads up.

Yoruichi clumsily crept through Rukia's last known location. Kisuke, ever the outwardly optimistic, had quickly grown from increasingly worried to frantic to full blown panic as the the Hōgyoku's container had vanished from everyone's radar. Everyone who mattered, anyway. Even the all-knowing, perfect enemy Aizen had not yet determined the seated officer's location. Which is why Yoruichi, who had been lurking around the Rukongai for the better part of the century, had been called in.

Kisuke had given the seated noble the trapped gigai a month previous, when a fight with an Adjuchas in the streets of Karakura had left her temporarily without power or communication. But in the space of three hours, an empty gigai had appeared in front of their shop, void of the Hogyoku or a trail for Yoruichi to follow. So she was tasked with canvassing the city in a vague attempt to find the missing jewel before Aizen made his move.

It was supposed to be a difficult chase to find an elusive target. But as Kisuke and Tessai's presence left the periphery of her sensory capabilities, her bones creaked under a massive presence that suddenly materialized around her. But Instead of fleeing back to Kisuke to report the energy spike, she was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Realizing her breathing had immediately become labored, she began to Shunpo towards what she hoped was the epicenter of the anomaly, disregarding that it was very likely that she was about to pass out. But even in her streamlines transformed body, one she had grown accustomed to in her century long absence, her sleek body felt like it was moving through molasses as she struggled to remain nimble.

Almost like a moth to a flame, she drifted closer to the anomaly. What could cause such a blanket effect on the city? No matter how far she moved in any direction, the pressure did not seem to lighten up in the slightest. Pluses with Hollow holes meandered down the streets. Interacting with fellow pluses without malice or ill-intent. Anomalies within themselves. The city was filled with rich spiritual energies, yet no tainted presences were trying to claw their ways through the souls. The eerie tranquility unnerved her as she pushed on.

And then she saw, or rather felt him. Causally, a living man was walking up to the dead, talking to them or touching them. Delirious, she noted that he was completely unencumbered by the weighty power that strained the muscles in her body not to implode. Even the spirits that he had spoken to seemed to feel the extreme weight, though they bore it better than she. Only as he passed her, hidden as she was in an alleyway, did her legs and her vision blacken. He was the source. And yet somehow, he had remained an unknown variable. Kisuke had no idea he existed, and by the looks of it, neither did Aizen. His passive, unrestrained output of power dwarfed what she thought possible, completely dwarfing Yamamoto's Shikai output.

Ungraciously, her nose skidded across the asphalt, her face meeting the ground. Returning to her feet, she reminded herself of her mission. Which was to... find the girl. Right. Still disoriented, she drunkenly made her way down the street, pausing only to take large gulps of air.

Then another Reiatsu made itself known, no longer eclipsed by the monster who had nearly knocked Yoruichi unconscious by standing next to her. Swiveling her head to the right, the Shihōin heir eyed the innocuous looking house that stood there. It was faint, but a Shinigami's signature was detectable inside the house.

Having tormented Byakuya for many centuries, Yoruichi could describe with certainty what the man's spouse looked like. So as she peeked through the window, she was understandably shocked to see Hisana standing in the living room vacuuming. Silently slipping through the door, she realized that the woman was not in fact Byakuya's late wife, but instead Yoruichi's intended target. She was as Yoruichi had expected except for a few differences. The most glaringly obvious was the bunny tux.

Rukia had been candy wrapped into a sheer black one-piece leotard. Matching white gloves and heels with white cotton fur covered her extremities, while black rabbit ears drooped on either side of the girl's head. Other key differences were that the girl had somehow jumped to her mid-twenties and, Yoruichi realized with a start, was now a living human. Though the Shinigami Reiatsu was unmistakable, her soul had reattached itself to a genuine flesh and blood body.

But Yoruichi had not been a captain only for her sensory skills, but for her mind as well. From the posture that her target stood, to the tune that she hummed, Yoruichi could immediately deduce that either Rukia had become brainwashed into staying off the radar, or more worrisome, that she had chosen to stay.

All reports of the girl had said that she was overly polite, by the book Shinigami. Due to Kaien's death some decades prior, she had not ever deviated from the base skills that she had learned in the academy. So coupled with the still present, overpowering Reiatsu, Yoruichi was not prepared for the girl to confidently spin towards Yoruichi's location and spray catnip directly into her face.

Yoruichi yowled as the drug overtook her higher brain functions, her already battered mind surrendering her body to instinct, something that she had not succumbed to in centuries. With dilated eyes she strode forward, even as she watched the bunny girl pour knockout medication into a bowl. Zoned out, she patiently waited as milk and cream were poured into the tranquilizer ladened bowl. And she drank it all.

Only when the cocktail of medication and Reiatsu suppressors were deeply ingested did Yoruichi's mind finally take note of the man with bleached hair, who was standing with a twisted smile in the foyer. Even as instinct finally lost its hold, she found herself jumping coquettishly into his seated lap to curl up. And as his fingers tugged at the sweet spot at the base of her ear, her mind blanked, her leg twitched, and eyes shut as a content purr rumbled through her body. With coherency fading, the thoughts of her friends sunk into her subconscious. Without any preamble, she let herself go, surrendering herself to the ministrations of her new owner.


	2. Chapter 2

Tatsuki loved and dreaded going to class. It wasn't that the material was hard or that her teacher was bad. Far from it, and if she got a chance today, she would actually listen to the lecture. But invariably, her attention would waver. And it would be because of the palpable presence of her Mast- of Ichigo when he came for the seat she was instructed to save for him. She wasn't a feminist, as female martial artists seemed slated to become, but the burning in her chest and in... other parts of her made beating the living shit out of him enticing, extremely so. It had always been the case around him for all the girls in his classes. Even the most openly lesbian bitch Chizuro, whom Tatsuki took small amounts of pleasure in actually being able to fend off, couldn't resist the charm that Ichigo seemed to exude.

And it was that charm that made it impossible for Tatsuki to resist anything that Ichigo asked of her. From what she ate to how she slept, he held an overriding input of how she lived her life. It was why she now had matching piercings on her tongue and clit. And it was why she was sitting sans panties, with her legs spread lewdly under the desk, hoping he would approve, and praying that he would find another seat.

But her pleadings with Kami went unanswered. Tatsuki watched as her Mast- Ichigo self-assuredly walked in with a new student in tow. Tatsuki watched pityingly as the new girl was introduced as Shihōin Yoruichi, before she took a step and fell on her face. Tatsuki knew in that instant that Ichigo had modified the girl to his liking. It was an ability of his that no one questioned anymore, despite the oddness of some. But Yoruichi's true appearance gave Tatsuki pause. He had spiced up his life with a bit of variation, it seemed. Though the girl's face was made up to perfection - Ichigo had given Tatsuki some lesbian tendencies, almost as bad as Chizuro, much to her unending shame - Yoruichi's whiskers and slit pupils belied the nature of her transformation.

Looking closer, Tatsuki could make out a pair of triangular ears atop the new student's head, as well as a four-foot-long tail that peeked out from under Yoruichi's skirt. As a humiliating final touch, her hands had been curled into a loose half-fist that Tatsuki knew hung useless to the girl as a crude imitation of a declawed paw. If she had been allowed, Tatsuki would have rubbed her legs together, because it was damn arousing.

Yoruichi took three more falls before Ichigo was able to guide her to the row where Tatsuki was sitting. Then they sat. Or rather, Ichigo sat in the available chair as Yoruichi spun Tatsuki's chair a full one-eighty so that both Tatsuki and her chair were facing the back wall. Tatsuki's face reddened as Yoruichi quickly straddled her, facing the front as she did. With her head now nestled inside the girl's perfect bosom, she involuntarily inhaled intoxicating aroma of the chocolate-skinned beauty and felt her eyes glaze over.

Class passed slowly. Tatsuki's limbs had weakened to the point of uselessness in those first few seconds as she vainly attempted to process the scent. But though her mind was fuzzy, and her body catatonic. Tatsuki still found the fortitude the curse Ichigo for putting them in Orihime-sensei's class for the entire day. That meant that even during breaks, Yoruichi did not let up in her constant torment of Tatsuki. Probably at the suggestion of their Master -she meant Ichigo, Tatsuki was mortified that when Yoruichi began to bounce on Tatsuki's lap, her ass seemed to always fall directly onto Tatsuki's bladder. To add to her torment, Ichigo had produced four vibrators and proceeded to cram them into her already sopping sex. She had been eased into a chastity belt shortly thereafter. In addition, Yoruichi had been pushing Tatuki deeper into her generous cleavage, prompting deeper and deeper breaths of the delicious odor.

All the while, Ichigo looked on. Whenever her tormentor deemed it necessary she breath fresh air, his handsome face would morph into a condescending smirk that _always _made her insides melt. Though he was the perfect student, raising his hand to answer for the class, there was always another hand on her thigh, gently squeezing and rubbing them. She gasped in frustration as he flicked her nether piercing, letting it ring in the quiet classroom. She was close. So close, and yet she wouldn't give her what she _needed_.

Then they were gone. Muzzly, she gathered her things. Her Master always did this, granted not with such a lovely _sexy __**hot**_ distraction. She stood, albeit slowly with juices still dripping down her leg. She would not get release today, or this weekend. As per her orders, slowly she arched her back before hiking up the front up her skirt. She had done something wrong this week it seemed. But school was over, and it was time to go home.


	3. Chapter 3

Inoue desperately wanted to call out to her former best friend. Tatsuki's oath to protect Inoue had lasted until their fourth grade, when Kurosaki had entered their lives and forever changed the dynamics of their class. He had seen Inoue's intelligence, something she had desperately tried to hide because it would lose her Tatsuki. But he had prodded her until she finally capitulated and went for more advanced classes. She had been terrified by the older kids, so Kurosaki had done something Tatsuki could never do and blackmailed the kids into staying away. With the trust formed, he quickly set into the pattern of both encouraging them away from each other. By prodding them both slowly but surely, he became Inoue's protector and Tatsuki's friend. But no matter what he asked, he always seemed to want more of them.

In three years time, Inoue had moved through the schooling system to her final semester of college. But she also given up most of her freedom and her independence. She received requests for interviews for various positions. Her bills and grant money went to the Kurosaki residence to be dealt with. She had become financially trapped by him, unable to even consider saving money separate. She _needed_ to pay him back for his generosity.

After graduating, she moved into his modest home. She ate what he told her to eat, no matter how vile or unhealthy. She slept when and she he told her to sleep, regardless of the time of day or if she were to sleep in the mud outside. And she dressed and spoke the way he told her to present herself, even if she was to be a low class whore. And she accepted it happily, without complaint -because he told her to enjoy it.

And now, eight years after first contact, she was teaching his class. Because he allowed her a job, she was a private school teacher. And just to test the perpetual, almost manic smile that she had to keep in public, he tormented Arisawa everyday in class. Inoue was never allowed to give any indication that the girl, whose panties were lucky to stay around her knees at the end of the day, had once been like an older sister to Inoue. Tatsuki the Tomboy didn't exist anymore, but Tatsuki of the Three Holes did. Watching the punch drunk girl giggle inanely as she bumped into the doorway on her way out, Inoue wanted to cry.

But only a few tears could escape before four years of training slammed down on her mind. A megawatt smile was suddenly back on her face as she pulled a key off the collar Ichigo had her wear. Uncaring of the assignments still on the table, the suddenly energized teacher locked the door as she exited, not even remembering her purse as she replaced her key and hurried on her way.

Two years prior, when Ichigo had allowed her outside the house for the first time since she moved in, he had come up with an idea. Ichigo would profit off of any intelligent work Inoue did, like teaching or researching. But in the case that Inoue wanted to buy something for herself, she would have to sell her body for that money. Except Ichigo didn't want his prime project sullied.

Inoue practically skipped to her room in excitement. Flinging off her clothes, she rushed to the closet to find her perfect outfit. Finally she settled on wearing Yuzu's denim cutoffs over one of Karin's bright red thongs, on that rose teasingly above the dukes. One of her own halters, that she had to stuff her chest into, completed the ensemble.

Ichigo's sister had been morphed very early on by their controlling big brother. Or rather, little brother. With modified records, both girls, though their core personality remained under a decade of conditioning, had as much difficulty with their clothes as Tatsuki. Yuzu had become Ichigo's "liaison" to the police, making sure that the right people were in charge while a dolled up Karin made sure that the local government kept a blind eye to the goings of Karakura Town. Both girls spent a majority of their time under desks or in jail cells. Of course, that didn't stop them from joining Inoue now and then.

Ichigo's solution to his wards' money problems was to give the girls access to a single laptop and webcam on the first Friday of every month. She would have three days to spend whatever she made during that night - meeting with his standards of course - while the leftover would join the rest of her money in oblivion. As Inoue waited for the laptop to warm up, she let a vapid, brainless look take over her countenance. Ichigo had set the laptop to be only able to stream the webcam to a secure site. And Inoue had been programmed to become a sexy idiot when the laptop came on. With her current mental state, the normally genius-level girl could only read and interpret sentences, and talk like a sex-addled bimbo.

Speaking of which, the first command line came up, prompting her for an intro. Taking a page from Arisawa, she adopted a dopey expression, as she teased the waistline of her dukes. Usernames appeared as people began to log in for the night's show. She felt her thong dampen as her exhibitionist commands took hold. She would have to apologize to Karin for ruining another pair of laptop chimed, announcing the final countdown before the start. The green light was given. Honeypot-Hime was ready to give her private show.


	4. Chapter 4

Kisuke was in a state of constant despair, and it was beginning to show through his cheerful facade. Jinta and Ururu's antics could not soothe him, and neither did Benihime's songs that resonated through his soul. As he stood overlooking the town he had inhabited for the past century, his only comfort came from the fact that Aizen was as blind to the situation as he.

Speaking of which, it seemed that the megalomaniac was making his move, prematurely, and reeking of desperation. From atop the Urahara Shoten, Kisuke watched as the 6th Division Captain and his Lieutenant step out of the Senkaimon.

He was fully prepared to let them go through their search alone, but the face of his oldest friend flashed through his mind. Clenching his free hand in a rare show of anger, the exiled captain made his first move out of the shadows. Yoruichi and the Hogyoku had been missing for six months now. Neither side of the silent war knew what had happened to their greatest assets, so with thoughts weighing down on his sharp mind, Kisuke began to flash-step towards the floating pair. There was no need to hide his presence from them; they needed to compare notes.

Byakuya had been named the Kuchiki Clan Head for both his power and personality, and had immediately noticed the watchful eyes upon him. Calling forth his Zanpakuto, in case of attack, he was surprised to see the former 12th division Captain visibly approaching them. But his analytical mind allowed for surprise, but no more.

Calling Renji to stand down, he eyed the newcomer warily. Urahara's willingness to approach them spoke volumes about the magnitude of the situation. The Gotei 13 knew where Urahara had set up shop, but since the man had kept his head down since his exile, he was allowed an uneasy peace. During his reign as Divisional Captain, Byakuya's odd relationship with the Shihōin heir meant that they had crossed paths before. Urahara had generally come across as a rather unprofessionally laid back individual. But the approaching _man_ was showing a serious side that the Clan Head had only seen a few times before. A highlight had been when the Central 46 had called for the genocide against modsouls.

But the nearly defeated expression that the hat-and-clogs man wore startled Byakuya most of all. It spoke of something more personal. The man before him had lost someone to the strange happenings of the town, and had tirelessly, desperately tried to find someone precious. It was a look he had seen in himself every day after the death of Hisana.

It would be another week of talks, drinks, and fruitless searches before the 6th division would return to the Seiterei, unknowingly bringing stowaways with them. In her age regressed body, Yoruichi had walked up to her drunken, despondent friend and tried to scream at him until she was blue in the face. But her owner's will, which hid him from prying eyes, made it impossible for them to perceive her. His glazed eyes that did little to even hallucinate her told her that.

She could slap him, throw things, and make noises that should have tipped them off to her location, but to no avail. But she could hold onto him, and pretend that she was comforting him as he broke down.

Her regret did not last long, however. Holding on to Byakuya's Haori, she felt the last tears fall before elation filled her. Her owner's (the word never failed to send a tingles to her extremities) hands encircled her as her sex-addled mind conjured up all the places inside the gates where she could offer herself to him.

Her excitement had created an almost perceptible aura around her, so the man she let parade her around with a leash and collar began whispering sweet nothings into her ear, licking and nibbling at it intermittently. With that, Yoruichi, whose body was once the sharpest weapon she possessed, felt her knees give way underneath her. She did not feel Byakuya begin his run through the Dangai at the speed of light, nor did she feel the gate close behind them.

Her entire world was _his _deep baritone voice. How its smooth texture reverberated through her. Her eyes and ears drooped as a familiar fog descended on her mind. Twin peaks atop her chest heaved and quivered as his nails lazily ran along the underside of her breasts. Muscle control failed and her hips began to twitch and jerk spasmodically. Her tail frizzled as his dropped lower, _lower,_ laying feather touches on her softened tummy and the inside of her thighs. Unable to hold it any longer, her own voice responded in pitch, allowing a cute mewl to escape her lips. But he had just meant to frustrate her.

Without warning, she pitched forward. Shivering, she looked back over her shoulder, from her position on the ground. He had released her to lie on the ground panting and moaning pitifully. Getting on her arms and knees, she made to get up before a weight pressed down on her again. Her owner had sat cross legged on her back, with impossibly perfect balance. Whimpering in need, she straightened her shaky arms. A yowl forced it way out as he swatted her exposed behind, allowing for a cool liquid to run down her leg as he repeated the action. Slowly, she began to walk forward on trembling limbs. As a bridle with reins appeared in her mouth, her owner released the lid on his Reiatsu. Just as it had in the past, Yoruichi squealed as her conscious mind shut down. For now, her owner's steed would take him though the empire to victory.


	5. Chapter 5

any felt his presence almost instantly. But by then, their eternal tormentor had already sealed their fate. Rumors began to run a muck of a devil that had entered the halls of the gods. Women of high ranking were vanishing, only to be found days later, with no apparent memory of their entrapment. It was to this that an emergency SWA meeting was held.

Momo looked around worriedly. Aizen had mentioned to her that those who disappeared might have been compromised. But at the same time, she was finding herself taking his words with a grain of salt. Over the past year, Aizen's genteel demeanor had all but vanished, leaving a cold, uncaring _cretin_ in his place. Momo had tried to overlook his drastic personality shift, but the blunt, tactless way that he spoke with had become beyond off-putting.

On the far side of the room stood Kurotsuchi Nemu and Matsumoto Rangiku. They, along with Kusajishi Yachiru, had been the first to pull vanishing acts. Except that Yachiru had never returned. To Hinamori's right sat the Black Ops captain. Suì-Fēng had become the most critical of the Returned, as was the term coined for the reappearing women. It was highly probable that the women's recollections of the day they had been taken was what put the steely woman on edge.

A spiky haired man, of Japanese descent, they said. A man in a black haori riding cross-legged on a woman's back. The descriptions of the woman had come out surprisingly poetic from even the most stringent girls. With hair black as the night sky, and rich dark chocolate brown skin pulled taut over an teenage frame, the Lieutenant of the 10th had identified the woman as the traitorous Shihoin Yoruichi. To many, it seemed to cast aspirations onto the reason for the woman's abrupt departure a century prior.

And so the SWA was holding an interrogation of the Returned. Tensions in Soul Society had risen. 11th Division Captain Zaraki was on a terrifying warpath, while 1st Division Captain Kyōraku Shunsui was fretting over his un-Returned Lieutenant. Unohana sat at the center of the room, smiling serenely at the Returned, but Momo could detect the cold rage that the pillar of peace was emanating.

Yet the Returned were unaffected by all of this. Even though each woman reported a memory block of some kind, all their discipline, poise, and drive had disappeared. Even Rangiku, who was known for her ill-temper during sobriety, did nothing more than smile lackadaisically at the boiling captains. To the once blindly loyal Lieutenant of the 5th division, it was almost enough to make her run from the room to break down. Each of the women, including Isane, Unohana's own Lieutenant, had undergone dramatic personality shifts after their recovery.

Momo knew that it grated on Unohana's nerves that Isane had become lazy and disobedient. In another instance, 13th Division Captain Utikate's third seat had become worryingly subservient to everyone in her division, even her fellow third seat, with whom she had held near legendary fights with in the past.

Unohana began with her medical questionnaire. For some reason, the Central 46 had barred her from doing medical check-ups on any of the Returned. Although each woman had returned without a scratch, Retsu had been rebuffed by her own organization, and prevented from doing her own duty. Something was definitely wrong.

And something was wrong with her. Something was tickling the back of her mind as she faced her first interviewee, Rangiku. A niggling thought that she should just let it all go.

_It would be for the best._

Best for who? Where was this doubt coming from?

_It has been draining you. That you have to live with your poise and elegance day in and day out. Have to deal with other Captains and the unruly 11th Division._

She could handle that though. She had for centuries!

_But you never wanted to handle it. You hate having to deal with such disobedience, even when they put on a nice face for you._

That was true...

_You want a peaceful life. One without strife._

Yes.

_Free from the white walls that cage you in._

Of course, but-

_Free from the Society that will never respect you for you. Only your power over them._

No. She recoiled suddenly. Something was very wrong. She was agreeing with the voice too easily.

_The Returned will respect you if you just drop all that posture._

Why couldn't she move? The interview was continuing, even as she was no longer consciously moving her mouth.

_Just slump forward. Onto your hands. Good. This posture feels right to you. More right than you have ever felt. Squeeze your breasts between your arms as your knees inch farther apart. Their approval is like music, isn't it. Soothing and welcome._

This was wrong! She was a woman of respect and dignity! Not the depraved slut that they were making her.

_It feels good to let them look down your haori. Leaning forward feels good. Feels great. Feels bad thinking of your front legs as arms. Feels good to lean forward on them. Feels good to balance on your front hooves._

Wrongwrongwrong!

_Feels bad to think of your udders as breasts. Feels great to think about getting your udders milked._

Nononono. Not udders. Breasts. But feels bad to call them breasts. Don't want udders milked.

_Feels bad to think. Feels bad to talk. Feels great to get milked._

No... Wrong... She had... thoughts and... opinions... and udders.

_Retsu the Cow doesn't think. Retsu the Cow only follows her udders._

There was no thought. Only instinct.

Momo could only watch as the Captain seemed to get more and more distracted during the hour-long interview. Ten minutes in, and her shoulders had begin to slump, as though she was trying to slouch for the first time in her life. Twenty minutes elapsed and she had leaned forward until her hands were almost in Rangiku's minutes in and she could not stop herself from idly, and very obviously, rubbing her loins on the mats. The Returned seemed to take great pleasure in her discomfort that the once perfectly serene captain was in. By the end of the hour, the Captain was a mess on the floor as her hips frantically thrust into the floor while her original anger had been replaced by a dopey, blissed out expression.

Momo was startled to find that the Returned had swelled in number. Save for her and the two Captains, everyone in the room had been turned, and Returned under their noses. Nervously, Momo grabbed the gibbering captain and hauled her back to their now meager portion of the room.

It seemed that Suì-Fēng had just realized this as well. Coughing, she took over the questioning, her eyes darting around the room, searching for the cause of the Medical Captain's breakdown. Momentarily satisfied that she was in the clear, she began her own set of questioning, all pertaining to the appearance and mannerisms of the captors. But she was not faring well. Unlike Captain Unohana, Momo could immediately see signs of strain and panic on the apathetic face of the Captain as she struggled to keep up the line of questioning.

Momo felt her legs tense as Suì-Fēng visibly struggled to remain upright. Then her cowardice won out as the Oriental woman fell to her hands and knees. She ran as a litany of moans and mewls overtook the Commander's speech.

It would be two more months of torment. Whomever it was that was Returning women, they were saving Momo for last. For she was the only one left. The only one still loyal to the Gotei 13. Though nothing changed on the surface, she spent her time in agony as the girls surrounded her, under the guise of "moving in a group to prevent abductions". Likely at the behest of their unknown master, the girls never kept their hands to themselves, and always left chaste touches and lascivious gestures on Momo's body.

Aizen had been right. Though she might not enjoy the man's company anymore, Momo had to give credit to the her Captain. The Returned were compromised soldiers. And as she sat to give her monthly report, her heart sank when she realized she was as well. No matter what, her attempts at communicating what had happened at the disastrous SWA meeting were for naught. In addition, Suì-Fēng and Unohana had disappeared. Though there was an active search for them occurring, she knew that they wouldn't find anything. Their only witness to the crime had fled, and had become unable to speak of it. Not even Aizen, her once beloved captain, could get her to speak on their possible whereabouts. Someone had superseded her loyalty to her captain _without her knowledge._

So when Aizen tried to take advantage of her situation and was "murdered", Kyoka Suigetsu no longer affected her. In breaking its hold on the Gotei 13, someone had flipped the illusion onto Aizen. Which was why he and the other traitorous captains were forced to flee.

The Captain Commander had been forced to call a state of emergency. Tousen had killed Kuromaru while Aizen had put down Kurotsuchi and the Central 46 when they fled. The Gotei 13 was suddenly down their governing body as well as seven captains. Within a panic-filled week, Matsumoto had ascended to captain of the 3rd, Isane the 4th, Momo herself the 5th, and Nemu the 12th. The Returned now controlled the Gotei 13. And as Momo began the arduous job as Captain, one that she had never pictured herself becoming, she discovered that Aizen had been neglecting the division for almost a century.

A month later, after sifting through ninety years of backed up paperwork, she allowed herself repite. Sleep came easy to the weary captain, but she was forcibly reminded of the devil within the Halls of the Gods as she awoke.

Cold, lustful eyes froze her in place, reminding her why she shouldn't be captain, as he looked down at her prone body. Sound failed her, not that she could have screamed, as he let her experience the full weight of his presence, concentrated fully on her being. She couldn't breathe, just as many before could not in his presence. Her jaw slackened as his hands came up to lazily touch her face. This wasn't supposed to happen. She had been a good girl. Willingly going along with whatever Rangiku-chan wanted of her, regardless of her personal feelings on the matter.

Her thoughts scattered as one of his fingers sent a pulse of Reiatsu through her temple. His face... his face was the only thing that existed. How his eyes narrowed, challenging her to resist. How his skin tighten, promising consequences should she do so. And how his lip curled into a cruel mockery of a smile, as though to tell her that her thoughts were useless. His thumb forced its way into her unresisting mouth, and instinctively her lips closed around it, her tongue coming up to caress the proffered digit. Her back arched as his other hand guided her to a sitting position, somehow ignoring her clothing to trace abstract patterns on her bare spine.

At some point he must have withdrawn his finger and replaced it with her own, because she suddenly found herself standing in front of him in the middle of cold room. She shivered and convulsed as his now free hand traced lazy circles on her tummy. And as her haori finally pooled around her ankles, she found herself uncaring of her nakedness.

She nearly jumped as the hand that had been on her spine switched targets without warning, dropping to squeeze her thighs. Her breath caught as it circled around to play with her dripping snatch.

She had never felt this way. Not so powerless or so far into ecstasy. Not even her most sordid fantasies of her traitorous captain had come close to this. And as he massaged her flesh, kneading and stretching muscles that had tension she had no idea existed, she found herself pushing her being into his hands. Into his presence. Her body rocked as he accepted unhesitating, pulling and gently pinching the nubs on her chest. She panted and drooled as his head dropped vampirically onto her neck, sucking and nibbling on the delicate flesh. Then her vision went white as three fingers entered the juncture between her legs.

Though muted by ineffectual vocal chords, Momo felt every muscle in her body contract as one. Spent, she felt her dilated eyes roll back into her head as she crumpled. With her, Seireitei had truly fallen. But thoughts of her captain, of her position in the Gotei 13, of her reluctance to be Captain had fled her. Weakly, she knelt before him to kiss his feet. Now all she wanted was to bask under his thrall.


	6. Chapter 6

It was in a triumphant whirlwind of passion and excitement that Yoruichi and her owner returned to the realm of the living. Though Yamamoto remained ignorant, the Seireitei was no longer one of the great powers. Ichigo had hamstrung the Shinigami when seven captains had abruptly left. He had subverted most of the power base within the walls, as well as taking the reigns to thousands of the weaker willed in the Rukongai.

And now the Returned were in power. Lethargy was their weapon as they forced things to a stand still. The Hinamori girl had been reluctant to stay behind, but her new loyalty to her master ensured that she would perform her duties to the best of her ability. But not all of the women had become Returned, as their reappearance would cause problems. Instead, they had joined Yoruichi in sisterhood. Ichigo had modified them accordingly of course.

Removing key personality traits was beyond even Ichigo, but he made up for it by implanting commands into each of the girls' psyches to override those pesky quirks. Yachiru, Unohana, and Suì-Fēng had all accompanied them back to the Kurosaki district. With their minds and bodies twisted, few Shinigami would recognize them.

In reverse of what had been done to Yoruichi, Yachiru had aged to a stunning, demonic twenty-five year old. Clad in an outfit no unbefitting of a princess. with frills and whatnot, the still sugar-powered girl's bloodthirsty tendencies had been redirected towards a dark, burning desire to play with her fetish-transformed sisters in the most _delicious_ ways possible. Both Yoruichi and Suì-Fēng would flee in terror every time she stood too close.

And when her owner had heard Yoruichi's nickname for her protege, he had created a befitting body for the girl. Like Yoruichi, she was oversexed and hyperstimulated. Unlike Yoruichi, whose body had shrunk due to the decrease in age, Suì-Fēng now struggled to stand tall at eight inches. With glowing yellow rags barely covering her frame, the now winged girl was a less-than-useless fairy.

Unohana had never recovered from the first night of conditioning, not that their owner had wanted her to. With mind muddled by instincts trying to make themselves known, she was easy prey to Yachiru's machinations. Black and white splotches were present in all the three articles of clothings that she was allowed to wear: A pair of headphones that blocked outside sounds while sending constant reinforcement to her brains, an enormous bra that stopped her udders from leaking, and a thong that framed her expanded breeding hips. With hooves for hands, Retsu barely stood on two legs. Cowbells and leashes directed the girl's movement, however sluggish it was.

And today, Yachiru had caught Yoruichi. She moaned and tried to crawl away as the red-eyed princess teased her rosebud, causing it to clench and unclench to Yachiru's tune. Also unfortunate for Yoruichi was that Yachiru had figured out how to manipulate Suì-Fēng, which was why the shrunken fairy was buzzing around in the catgirl's womb. Alas, her daily torture session would be coming to a close. Yoruichi felt equally parts relieved and concerned as a flash of energy brushed against her senses.

Because he had not wanted Yoruichi completely useless, Ichigo had amplified her sensory capability. Even without ever meeting a person, Yoruichi could pinpoint and give the name of the Reiatsu's emitter. And unfortunately, she recognized all five of the signatures coming towards them right away. Sensing that she was no longer focused on resisting their assault, Yachiru snapped to attention, calling Suì-Fēng out of the nest she had made.

Immediately after their exile one century previous, Kisuke had let the Visored Shinigami disappear off on their own. So for them to be approaching the girls' location meant that something must have happened. Another flash of Reiatsu, previously hidden by the five surrounding it made Yoruichi's mouth go dry. Kisuke was with them.

She froze at they landed Suì-Fēng buzzed angrily overhead. Somehow, they had bypassed Ichigo's protections. Or at least some of them. Shinki and Love were still looking around for them, Hiyori, Masahiro, and Lisa had pointed Kisuke right at them. She swallowed thickly as Kisuke slowly broke away from the others to stand in front of her.

She couldn't met his eyes, couldn't answer his questions, couldn't feel anything except a deep burning guilt for abandoning him so callously. Looking past him, her body felt deadened as she saw Hiyori's forever indignant glare burn increase in intensity. So she switched her gaze back to her former friend, looking everywhere but his eyes.

He looked terrible. Decades previous, after finally settling in Karakura Town, he had drunkenly told her what she was to him. More than platonic, less than romantic. She had been his anchor to reality, the defining factor that separated him from Aizen. And she had vanished. _But she hadn't meant to_, she wanted to say. _She had meant to find Rukia and report back_. She had become invisible to him, so she hadn't been able to contact him. It was the truth, but it was a lie. She had never tested the boundaries of her owner's powers. Maybe she could have... For the first time she noticed his attire.

Haoris were known to be spiritual representations of clothing. Of decency and moral strength. But going deeper into its meaning, a Haori was the representation of a soul's stability. Kisuke's Haori was dissolving. Widening tears lined his sleeves, the hems of his robes were fraying, and most disturbingly, Kisuke starting to lose a coherent outline. Shocked, she finally turned her terrified eyes towards Kisuke. He was destabilizing. He was destabilizing, and she wanted to convey all her regret and fear for him in a single wide eyed look.

Then her owner was their.

Shinji and Love immediately collapsed out sold on the pavement. The female Visored were not far behind as they sank to the ground, resisting and shaking uncontrollably. But Kisuke merely switched his impassive focus to him, dismissing Yoruichi. She sagged in relief as she to dropped into a kneel, comforted by Ichigo's presence.  
No words were spoken between the two men. Slowly Ichigo made the first move. With an open palm facing up, Ichigo's arm seemed to ripple. Kisuke closed his bloodshot eyes and nodded resignedly as the full awakened Hōgyoku rose through Ichigo's hand. Breathing out, with equal sluggishness, Kisuke unsheathed Benihime. Flipping the blade so that the edge cut into him, Kisuke offered the hilt to Ichigo. Yoruichi's breath caught as she suppressed a sob, Benihime's voice mixing in with her own. She knew what this ritual was. Evidently, so did Ichigo. Nodding in acceptance, he grabbed Benihime's hilt.

Their audience watched as Kisuke finally destabilized. With a massive pulse of energy, befitting the dying captain, Kisuke's Reiatsu exploded outward as both his and Benihime's forms dissolved. But the ritual wasn't finished. Ichigo raised his glowing fist skyward, drawing the Reiatsu cloud inward. Then it was silent. Lowering his arm, which had returned to its original state, his face again twisted into a cruel mocking smile. Fluidly, he walked forward to claim his new prizes.

Lisa was caught unsuspecting as a hand grabbed at the back of her neck. Gasping, she stood no chance as her mind emptied. Then her sailor outfit became relevant. Pulling her up, Ichigo cast a glance at the other two he had yet to get to. Both were staring disbelieving at him. Good.

With little fanfare, Lisa's pleated skirt halved in length, her top doing the same before knotting under her chest. Releasing her, he watched as her glasses disappeared, while her face lifted into a dopey smile. Goofily, she stood at ready, with her back arched, her hand coming up to give him a faux salute. Grinning, he turned away. The pigtailed girl looked like she would be fun to break.

Hiyori desperately reached her hand up to pull down her mask, but with a casual wave he disabled her Visor. Attempting to go for her sword, she faltered when Ichigo casually put a hand on Masahiro's unresisting head. In seconds, Masahiro's eyes became glassy as a blush easily painted itself onto her cheeks. Her limbs stiffened and straightened, leaving a perfect doll in her place.

Using her shock to his advantage, Ichigo flicked out a finger at the the remaining girl. Hiyori had no warning as her chest was hooked upwards, leaving her uselessly posing in midair. Struggling, she watched as the world seemed to expand around her. Now the size of a wallet, her reduced muscles could do little to prevent a windup piece from forcing itself out of her back.

She had been short for her entire life, so she was unprepared for her proportions to change, her stout frame stretching, changing everything about her. Feet became dainty as her her bones hollowed. A strangled gasp left her lips as they too changed, hardening and lengthening into a hollow point beak.

Then she was thirsty. Oh so thirsty. A hand twisted something in her spine, and she pitched forward, bobbing slightly into a glass of water that had suddenly appeared.

And Yoruichi watched as her form of salvation was destroyed. Salvation that had existed, but she could never more attain. With no more words, and no more games, she and her sisters left the scene, trailing their Master in servitude.


End file.
